


The Morning After The Night Before

by YouDontWannaKnow



Series: Me, You & Him [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Cheating, Dating, M/M, One Night Stand, Smut, The Maze Runner - Freeform, Thominewt, Three-way Relationship, best friend Teresa, gally ex-boyfriend, i'll add more of these as the plot goes on lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7298956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouDontWannaKnow/pseuds/YouDontWannaKnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas was the sweetest guy Newt could ever meet. He was cute, he was kind, he made Newt's stomach feel funny. He wasn't much of a career man, working as a cashier in the local grocery store. But he made up for it with his looks and personality. Only one problem was, he wanted to take things slow, and Newt was sick of slow.<br/>Minho was the hottest thing Newt had ever woken up next to. His hair, oh God. And those abs, ugh. And those biceps made Newt melt. He was an electrician, a sports aficionado and an avid enthusiast for a good time. There was no such thing as a commitment for Minho, just sex. And after his ex-boyfriend, Newt kinda craved commitment.<br/>Who knew this much could happen because of crappy break-up movie night?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crappy Break-up Movie Night

“I’m sorry, Newt. I just can’t keep doing this. We’re over.”

Those words were Newt’s downfall. Sure, Gally had his problems; violent outbursts of rage, for example – not to mention some manipulative traits. But he was all Newt had. And if the blond wasn’t desperately trying to forget about him, he might go far enough to say that he loved him.

They’d been together a year and a half. It was definitely not the ideal relationship; Newt couldn’t count how many times he’d come home, to _his bloody apartment_ , and find Gally wrapped in some other guy’s arms, legs, various other body parts. But Gally had always been good at making everything seem like Newt’s fault. The manipulative bastard would constantly think up reasons why Newt was the one who was ruining everything. And Newt wasn’t an idiot – he knew what Gally was doing. But desperation would always kick out any thoughts of leaving the bugger. Lucky Gally had started getting sick of him.

The break-up destroyed him, yes, but a small (more like tiny) part of him was glad the shank was out of his life. From the outset, Newt knew Gally was toxic. But Newt was dumb enough to give him points for at least pretending to be nice.

Between trying to juggle his hectic work-life, his crippling loneliness and his barely existent love-life, Newt just about found enough time to squash in a few minor mental breakdowns. He worked in an office answering pointless calls about idiot clients, and usually by the end of the day, he’d be between committing homicide or suicide. He’d calculated that it would be the three-hundredth time he’d hear “hello, this is Wicked, how can I help you?”, that he’d start losing it. Lucky his boss Alby was a bloody angel, because Newt would have been fired months ago if he worked for anyone else. Maybe it was favouritism, because Newt was also a good friend of Alby’s, but whatever it was, Newt was mighty glad for it. But he was still hanging on a string, ‘BFF’ or not.

It was safe to say the world was plotting against him. But at least he had free will.

“We need ice cream.” And his best friend/roommate/colleague Teresa.

“Ice cream?” Newt quirked with a raised eyebrow. Teresa nodded like there was no other option and picked up a pot of the frozen dessert, shoving it into the shopping cart the two of them had been piling junk food into for the past twenty minutes.

“You can’t go through a break-up without ice cream.” She said matter-of-factly. Newt rolled his eyes at the cliché and frowned bitterly at the reminder of his break-up. It had happened a few days ago, but Newt had been busy seething and crying to ‘celebrate’ until now.

“Yeah, only if you’re a bloody teenage girl,” he snapped, halfway wanting to start an argument so he could have another reason to be so angry, not just some shank he shouldn’t care about this much. “And can you please stop saying ‘break-up’? It makes everything sound official, it’s depressing.”

Teresa tutted and picked up some potato waffles to stuff in between the bag of marshmallows and the box of soda cans; it was a good thing Newt was good at Tetris or he might not have been able to fit everything in. “I did tell you Gally was going to hurt you. I told you after your first date, I said ‘that shuck is bad for you’. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, sure, bask in the mighty glory of being right about your best friend’s dysfunctional relationship, why don’t you?” Newt barked, and he felt that feeling he’d had when Gally initially announced that their relationship had ended. He was unsure whether he wanted to murder someone or break down and cry – he decided against either when he figured tears were useless and blood was probably hard to clean up.

“I’m just saying-” Teresa began, but Newt cut her off with an angry huff.

“You’re just saying you told me so. And you were right. But I don’t want to bloody hear it, so piss off.” He retorted, his angry tone accentuated by his violently tossing some chocolate biscuits atop the ever-growing pile in his cart.

Teresa paused, her eyes showed hurt for a split second before sympathy and regret filled them. “I’m sorry.”

Newt considered staying angry at her for a moment; she could be sympathetic if she wanted, but arguing was useless. He sighed, letting out as much irritation as he could with the breath. “Let’s just pay for all this bloody klunk and go home to watch some shitty action movie.”

“Good that.” Teresa mumbled and nodded, her eyes flitting to the floor as if apologising silently.

The store, despite having several customers in each aisle, was quieter than what Newt would first expect. The most piercing sound was the beep of the tills and the automated voices of self-check-out machines, which Newt was eager to get to, but Teresa shoved him towards one of the cashiers, mumbling something about there being too much they needed to scan. Newt was too busy aggressively glaring at everyone who even glanced at him to argue.

“That’s a lot of candy,” Newt was glaring at an old woman who’d looked him up and down, when he heard the cashier chirp happily. The positivity in the voice was almost offensive; why should this stranger shank be so happy when Newt’s life was slowly but surely falling apart? The cashier was a brunet, who’s smile was far less insulting than his happiness. His eyes were bright, like he hadn’t lost all hope, despite being the around same age as Newt and merely being a cashier in a store. “You having a party?” He asked politely as he scanned the pretzels Teresa had forced into the cart.

“No,” the girl answered, trying and failing to match the guy’s seemingly inappropriate cheeriness as she started piling their items into plastic bags. “Newt’s going through some stuff with his boyfriend. It’s crappy break-up movie night. It’s a tradition.”

That was true – while Newt was wasting his time with Gally, Teresa had been actively trying to find her own significant other. Obviously, she failed a lot. And every time, Newt would buy her a bunch of junk, turn off all the lights and force her to watch some shitty movie that got a one-star rating from anyone who watched it.

At that announcement, the cashier’s face dropped to a sympathetic wince, still pretty happy, annoyingly. His gaze fell on Newt, with manufactured sadness in his eyes. “That sucks.”

Newt only had it in him to nod silently. He skipped his gaze to the guy’s name-tag, deciding if _Tommy_ knew his name, Newt should know his. He also decided that he should try to make conversation; he hoped Tommy’s happiness would rub off on him, at least a little. “Why are you so bloody cheery anyway?”

The brunet shrugged his shoulders, he chuckled softly. “I don’t mean to brag, but things are going good for me right now,” he paused, moved his eyes to look at Newt specifically.

Newt, who huffed a humourless laugh. “You work as a cashier. How is that good?”

“Yeah, I guess you have a point,” Tommy laughed back, his smile distracting Newt from his heartache for a second. “Maybe you just caught me on a good day.”

Newt very almost smiled back, until Teresa leaned over to him and whispered. “See, these are the kind of guys you should be going for. Not ass-holes like Gally.”

He would have murdered her violently if Tommy hadn’t piped up. “I’m flattered, but I’m sure you should give your friend some time to get over this Gally shank before ‘going for’ anymore guys.”

Newt was glad someone had stood up for him, because Teresa would have won this argument no matter what – she won every argument no matter what. “Thank you, Tommy.” He said, forcing a smile at the cashier.

“Thomas,” the bloke corrected, simpering. “This was the closest name-tag they had. I kinda hate it.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” Newt pushed, smirking for the first time in a long time. Thomas glared at him, but his half-smile ruined the punch in it. Teresa had finished paying, so she shoved a full plastic bag into his hands.

“C’mon, we’ve got a crappy movie to watch.” She said with a grin. Newt turned to give Thomas a polite smile, just in time to see him give one back.

Thomas bit his lip, as if thinking, then he grabbed a pen and reached out for Newt’s palm. “Tell you what. I don’t plan on quitting my job and skipping state anytime soon, so if you get over the Gally shank ridiculously quick, give me a call.”

Newt analysed the numbers written on his palm and smiled, but it only lasted half a second because he was back to thinking of Gally. He should’ve never given the bastard the time of day.

****

“She should’ve never given that bastard the time of day.” Newt said through a mouthful of pretzels. Teresa groaned, it would have probably been an animalistic noise if it wasn’t muffled by the jumbo marshmallow in her mouth.

“Newt, I’ve told you ten times, stop talking to the shuck TV.” She scolded as she chewed through the fluffy snack in her mouth. Newt rolled his eyes and pointed at the bloke on the screen’s face.

“But he’s a douche-bag.” At that, the screen flickered, turned black. Newt had to wonder if that was payback for insulting the guy, but eventually put it down to coincidence. Teresa groaned tiresomely.

“Oh, great, now you pissed off the TV.” She pushed herself to her feet and moved around the coffee table to reach the machine, which she then proceeded to violently attack with slams.

Newt sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll call the electrician again.”

This had been, what, the hundredth time the TV had decided to revolt against him? It had happened so much, Newt found it in his best interest to keep the electrician, Ben, on speed-dial. He was a close friend of Gally’s, which meant Newt spent a full minute hovering his finger above the ‘call’ button, an internal debate stirring inside him. But then he managed to gain the courage to press the bloody button.

“Hello,” was the voice that answered. Newt almost jumped at the sound – often Gally would answer some of Ben’s calls, so he was glad to notice that it was Ben’s voice.

“Hey, Ben. The TV’s died on me again.” He announced, nervously simpering at a spot on the floor.

The electrician paused, and Newt could sense tension building. “Hi Newt. How are you holding up?”

Newt silently seethed, hating the way Ben patronised him. “I’m doing good. My TV? Not so much,” he prompted.

“Gally told me he broke up with you,” the electrician said back, in a sad sigh. “That can’t be nice.”

“Ben, I called about my crappy TV, not my crappy relationship.” Newt barked angrily, sick of being the subject of sympathy. “Can you fix it or what?”

“Your relationship?” The electrician asked, Newt could sense the raised eyebrow.

“No, slinthead, the bloody TV,” he snapped. “It’s movie night, Teresa will throw a fit if she doesn’t see some Brad Pitt-wannabe back on her screen sometime soon.”

There was another pause, this time picking the tension up where it left off. “Gally probably won’t be happy with me if I-”

“No, Ben, he’s not the boss of you.” That was something good Newt had learned during this break-up: he realised that the relationship had a hierarchy, and King Gally was right on top. It was just a shame it took emotional turmoil to figure it out.

“Yeah, but he’s my friend,” Ben argued, his voice stubborn.

“C’mon, Ben, I’ll never bother you again.” Newt begged – crappy break-up movie night had been helping him so far, if not just a little. So he was desperate.

Ben didn’t say anything for a minute, then he sighed deeply. “Look, I’ll call up a friend of mine. He’ll help you out.” Newt let out a breath of relief he’d been holding in.

“Thanks, Ben, I owe you.”

“Don’t mention it.” The electrician muttered. Newt felt himself smile slightly, but it dropped when he heard Teresa slamming her palm on top of the TV, desperately trying to kick it into action.

“Don’t break it, shank, we’ve only got enough money to have it repaired, not buy a whole new one.” Newt called across the apartment. Teresa looked up at him and narrowed her eyes in a glare, then slumped back onto the couch in a huff. Newt aimed to focus back into his phone conversation, but the only sound was a beep that told him Ben had hung up. He sighed, let out a silent groan, then dropped his phone onto the kitchen counter. As he walked past it, he flicked the kettle on, figuring he’d make a cuppa for the electrician.

Ten minutes and two cups of tea later, there was a knock on the apartment door. Newt jumped up from the couch, where he and Teresa had been playing some boring card game. He unlocked the door, then swung it open, revealing an Asian guy standing in the doorway. He had a tool-belt loose around his waist and his hair was damn-near perfect. His lips curled into a smirk at Newt.

“Someone got a broken TV?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like it x


	2. Drink to Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is rly short just a heads up aha

"So your solution to a break-up is to binge-eat and have a movie marathon?" The bloke kneeling behind the TV set, the bloke who formerly introduced himself as Minho, chuckled mockingly as he did something or other with a screwdriver. His gaze rose from the TV to Newt, who was standing behind him, watching carefully should this ever happen again and Ben wouldn't help him. "What are you, a teenage girl on her period?"

Newt rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's what I said. But it worked for Teresa when she broke up with..." he had to think for a minute, gazed at the brunette to try to remind himself. "Jeff, right? He was the first in your long list of recent boyfriends?"

Teresa glared at him and scowled as she shoved a spoonful of almost melted ice-cream into her mouth. Newt forced an innocent grin at her before dropping his attention back to the electrician working at his feet. "So we made it a tradition."

In the short time that Minho had been here, he'd already scoffed two packets of chocolate pretzels and finished his complimentary cuppa and a can of soda. He got to work the moment he entered the apartment, with a comment about the excessive amount of junk food on their varnished wooden coffee table. The comment made Newt glance down at the random set of numbers on his palm, thinking of  _that's a lot of candy_ , Tommy's opinion on the sweets. He hoped the ink on his hand wouldn't fade before he could remind himself to write the number sequence somewhere more permanent.

Minho hummed as he stuffed his screwdriver into his tool belt and yanked out some wire cutters. "I had a tradition like that with my roommate in college."

"Really?" Teresa asked, trying to keep up the conversation. "What was that?"

"Well, every time he got out of a relationship, we'd screw each other silly 'til he forgot about it," Minho announced distractedly as he messed with some wires in the TV. Newt's eyebrow arched, he glanced at Teresa, who scoffed a laugh lacking humour.

" _You_ never went through a break-up in college?" She asked, and Newt almost laughed at the fact that _that_ was what she'd taken from the claim. Minho glanced up at her and shook his head.

"Nah, dating's never really been something I do," he said, and Newt jumped when a spark lit from the TV, but Minho didn't flinch. "The whole boyfriend thing makes my skin crawl, honestly."

Newt didn't know whether that was funny or sad, but he couldn't wonder for long because Minho continued, distractedly stabbing at a panel on the TV with a smaller screwdriver than he'd been using earlier. "And by the way, this whole binge-eating thing is a crappy tradition."

"Well, obviously you'd say that," Newt muttered, to himself more than anything. He'd tried to stop himself from noticing how bloody disgustingly in-shape this guy was (he definitely hadn't been drooling, no way), but it was hard not to notice since Minho was wearing the tightest t-shirt in existence, and his short sleeves could barely contain his arms. "Look at you. With those abs, you've got to be one of those 'eat healthy', gym addicted nutters."

Minho paused what he was doing to look up at him, smirking, his screwdriver still absently jammed into a spot on the TV. "That's not what I meant, but thank you."

Newt's gaze dropped to the floor automatically and he felt his cheeks turn slightly pink - oh, he just loved mild embarrassment.

"So what did you mean?" Teresa asked as she set her ice-cream tub on the coffee table, earning a hum from Newt, who'd reminded her multiple times not to leave stains on the wooden table. She didn't seem to notice his small sound of disapproval, which was more a way of distracting from his slight blush than to actually get her to move the tub.

"I mean, you're like, what, seventeen?" Minho replied as he yanked the screwdriver out of the TV and used it to point at Newt, almost accusingly. "You should be at a bar with a fake ID getting shit-faced right now."

"I'm twenty-three, slinthead." The blond snapped, cursing his baby-face for the billionth time in his life. Minho's eyebrows raised like he was surprised, but who wasn't when they found out Newt's age?

His face twisted after a moment, to a mischievous smile. "So...you're legal?"

Newt scoffed, rolling his eyes. He thought about saying something, making a witty comeback, but he didn't have the energy. Instead, he just exhaled. "Can you fix the bloody TV or what?"

Minho glanced at the machine, and the mess he'd made of the wires inside it, then he nodded and shoved the tool in his hand back into his tool-belt. "It's fixed. But I'm not going to let you sit around and mope when you could be out having fun."

"I'm quite content watching a shit movie, thanks." Newt huffed, but he couldn't complain since the guy had just fixed his TV for him. He crossed his arms, assuming that would be the end of the debate.

"C'mon, man," Minho groaned. "Live a little."

“Newt, he’s right,” Teresa said from nowhere, surprisingly. Newt turned to look at her, his face full of shock. “We both know crappy break-up movie night only works for me. You need alcohol, loud music and a one-night-stand. Go, have fun.”

Newt narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “Teresa, are you feeling okay?”

Teresa rolled her eyes, smacking her tongue. “Newt, go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“So, it’s settled,” Minho smirked, throwing his arm over Newt’s shoulder.

And that right there…that was the last thing Newt remembered of that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloo  
> This is hella short but I figure something is better than nothing so here ya go  
> Hope you like this, let me know what you think :)  
> Leave love ;)


	3. Starry Night

Newt woke up with a splitting headache and stiff limbs, a turning stomach and his head strung with hazy memories.

But, he also woke up to slow, soft kisses on his lips, so it wasn't all bad.

For a moment, Newt had to wonder whether this was Gally, and he'd just been dreaming their break-up, but when was the last time Gally woke Newt up with bloody kisses? He'd be lucky to even get glances in the morning.

No, this must be some sort of one-night-stand - unless he accidentally slept with Teresa for some reason, and she was into it? God, he hoped not.

"You awake?" A voice asked with two kisses crawling from his lips to his cheek. It definitely wasn't Teresa, but he knew that voice from somewhere.

"Yeah." He whispered back, kept his eyes glued shut so as not to ruin the fantasy of the swimsuit model he was imagining in his head.

There was a soft chuckle against his cheekbone. "You don't look it," the voice paused and Newt felt a hand crawl up to his jaw. "Last night was the best time I've had in a while."

Newt tutted, eyes still peacefully bolted shut. "Mm, I bet you say that to all the boys."

A hum. "True. But this time I mean it."

Newt tried to grin or at least smile, but his facial muscles had woken up yet. His arms had though, so he stretched them out, finding Anonymous's body on top of him, and held what he was sure were hips.

"I know it's early," the voice continued, kissing the free side of his jaw this time. "But last night, you said you had to be in work at eleven, so I thought I'd wake you a few hours before so you can take your time getting up and ready."

"That was nice of you," Newt replied, barely a sleepy mumble.

"Don't mention it." The voice pushed, moving to his neck, which made him shudder. "I noticed you had goose-bumps when I woke up so I put some of your clothes on you, but then you got hot so I pulled everything off but your boxers. I also made you some breakfast. Hope you like toast."

Wow, who the hell was this guy?

Newt let one of his hands find a spine, then shoulder blades, then Anonymous's cheek, which he gently held with his thumb. "What are you, the king of the morning after?"

The faceless voice grinned against his neck. "I like that."

Newt just had to open his eyes when this stranger's fingers twitched, and Newt finally realised where his hands were; under the boxers he'd aforementioned. He looked up at the white ceiling of the yellow, sun-drenched room, and held his breath, unable to move because he couldn't even remember the last time he had morning sex.

He felt the guy smirk, obviously noticing the tension, but he didn't move his hand again until it could take Newt by surprise, and it did.

"Bloody fuck," Newt grunted, twitching, pushing this guy's stomach up to stop him; not that he wanted him to stop. God, no. But he should at least give himself some time to wake up first.

He heard the stranger chuckle before he pushed himself up to grin at Newt. It took a moment for Newt's eyes to adjust to the face in front of him, and it took him just less than that to realise who this guy was.

Minho. As in, Ben's electrician friend, Minho. As in, the guy who took him out to a bar last night to get drunk.

Was this his plan all along? To get Newt to sleep with him? Maybe it was a pity thing, cause Minho felt bad about Newt's break-up with Gally and wanted to do something to cheer him up.

Okay, Newt had officially lost his mind.

But Minho sure looked like the type of guy to have one-night-stands then no regard for his partner. Then again, toast didn't seem like disregard.

"Good morning." Newt greeted him, jutting his chin upwards, a prompt for a kiss.

Minho smiled, dropping his gaze to Newt's lips, before kissing him gently. Newt hummed, enjoying the kiss. A little bit. Okay, what the hell, it was nice. Not a one-night-stand kiss, it was too pleasant.

He pushed his fingers through the short strands of Minho's hair on the back of his head and hummed one more time before he pulled back, opening his eyes.

"You said something about food?" He murmured. Minho laughed, nodding, before pushing himself up, so he could swing his legs off of the bed.

Newt, cold from the lack of body heat on top of him, stretched his back, glancing down at the boxers he had on. He was glad he had them on, so he didn't have to go through the process of finding them on Minho's floor.

Speaking of, Minho's floor was a mess. A mess of clothes, and sheets, and whatever else could even go on the floor. His walls were covered in movie posters, his desk and shelves filled with trinkets and books. A little like a teenage boy's room.

The thought made Newt smile, as he stood up, and sleepily made his way over to the door Minho had disappeared through.

The rest of the apartment wasn't much different at all. Less messy, but the boyish vibe was still apparent in the posters of superheroes and cartoons, the custom couch throw of Doctor Who characters, the mug of coffee Minho handed Newt with the Hufflepuff emblem printed on it.

Newt couldn't stop grinning at him. "You're a nerd! Of course! That explains it."

Minho raised an eyebrow, smiling curiously as he shuffled some bacon onto a plate on the messy, covered-in-tea-stains counter. "Explains what?"

"Why you're being so nice to me ever  _after_ the one-night portion of the one-night-stand," Newt chuckled, walking over to sit on the black bar stool at the counter. "You're exactly the type of guy to shove a one-night-stand out the door the second it's over, but look at you, you're a nerd. You couldn't do that to a person, you're too nice."

"So, nerd equals nice?" Minho replied, his mouth perked into a hesitant smile. Newt picked up a piece of the greasy toast on his plate, ignoring the heat on his fingers.

"That's not what I mean," he said, taking a cautious bite. "But yeah, basically."

Minho giggled, leaning over to kiss the blond locks on Newt's forehead, while Newt's mouth was occupied with his breakfast. "None of that is mine, anyway. Well, y'know, apart from the superhero posters. The rest of this junk is my roommate's."

Oh. That was a little disappointing. Still, until a moment ago, Newt thought Minho was some almighty professional one-night-stand haver, nothing to do with an obsession for British Timelords or wizards.

Newt sipped his coffee. "So, your roommate's the nice one. Got his number?"

Minho chuckled, pausing before he took Newt's hand. "Actually, yes. It's been written on your hand since last night."

Wait, what? Who...? Newt stared down at the messy scrawl of numbers scribbled on his hand. Oh.

"Thomas?"  _He_ 's your roommate?" He asked, in disbelief. How could it be that the sweet, polite boy he met in the local supermarket lived with the flirty, sex god of a man he'd just spent the night with? That was the last place Newt expected to see a connection.

Minho smirked. "Don't act so surprised." He let go of Newt's hand, turning to the second plate of toast - his own. "I told you last night when you refused to stop mentioning the cute cashier you thought you'd met in Camden, ya British fuck."

Newt tried not to grin at him, focused on the corners of his mouth and pushed them into a frown. He hesitated, noticing Minho notice him frown. "I actually don't...remember that much about last night."

Newt could feel the small gasp of air Minho just took in sucking the oxygen out of the room. He stared at the blond, he looked like he was holding his breath. He seemed to question something for a long moment, then, with a tone of realisation, he let out the air in his lungs. "You were drunk."

Newt looked down at the coffee mug warming up his hands, feeling Minho's feelings of shame. "Slightly very drunk."

Minho exhaled again, this time silently, before whispering to himself, "Wow, you really didn't seem it." He looked up at Newt, opening his mouth a few times, only to give up his sentence before he started it. He finally said something. "I, um, I kind of feel bad. I hope you don't feel like I took advantage of you at all."

Newt looked up at him, shaking his head. "What? No, no way. I'm glad we did this."

He hadn't thought about Gally in minutes.

Minho smiled. "So am I."

Gally never smiled like that.

Shit, now he was thinking about Gally. Bloody hell.

Newt took one more sip of coffee, then placed his mug down, hopping off his seat to get around the counter to Minho.

Minho raised an eyebrow as Newt's hands gripped onto his hips, leaning in close. "So..." Newt whispered, the space between their lips  _almost_ non-existent. "Care to give me a taster of what happened last night? It might help jog my memory."

Minho hummed, smirking as he leant in and closed the space between their lips. His hands invaded Newt's waist, as he stepped forward to get Newt moving backwards.

Newt felt his lower thigh collide with the couch's arm. He tripped backwards, exclaiming with a giggle as Minho toppled on top of him. Minho laughed into his mouth, his fingers already hooking around Newt's boxers, tugging them down.

Newt felt his stomach do a handstand as Minho's palm curled around him, their lips tangled in each other. Minho's hand made that repetitive motion around him, pulling at Newt's pleasure strings. Newt moaned lowly against him, heat arising through his fingertips. He felt the corners of Minho's mouth twitch against his own, into a fantastic smirk. "That's the hottest thing I've ever heard anyone do."

Newt looked up at him, a challenging look on his face as he shuffled to get more comfortable on the couch, his head against the arm. "Bet you could do better."

"Oh, absolutely," Minho whispered, re-attaching his lips to Newt's, their tounges picking up their waltz where they left off.

Newt moaned again, more of an exhale than anything, and most of it was an accident, but Minho's vocal chords responded appropriately, with a groan of his own. Low, hot. The vocal version of Minho's tight, firm abs.

Damn. Minho could do better.

"I'll pay you twenty bucks to do that again," Newt murmured breathily, his body shuddering as Minho continued to work at his downstairs.

Minho chuckled, climbing further over him. "Ah, but why resort to prostitution when I'd be happy to moan again for you for completely free?"

Newt bit his lip, desperate even though everything he needed was happening to him. "Mm, please do."

Minho grinned, cleared his throat as if to make an announcement. He paused for effect, then, in a totally unsexy high, nasal voice, he moaned, "Mm, don't stop."

Newt laughed, and suddenly he couldn't stop laughing, because Minho wouldn't stop moaning in that nasal voice and it was so funny to Newt that he didn't even mind when Minho let go of him, too caught up in the joke.

"What are you laughing at, Newt?" I'm just trying to be sexy," Minho chuckled, the voice still hurling Newt into a fit of laughter.

"Ah!"

Newt stopped laughing, both his and Minho's heads shooting to look at one of the doors into the living room.

Thomas stood there, in an adorable set of Van Gogh's Starry Night pyjamas, his eyes wide and his cheeks completely red. Newt bit his lip, vaguely aware that Minho was trying to pull his boxers over him. Apparently, Minho succeeded, because he stopped, and turned to Tommy.

"Thomas, hey," he said, with a smile that said he was embarrassed about this, which surprised Newt. So maybe Minho wasn't a one-night-stand professional.

Thomas didn't take his eyes from Newt. He almost looked a little bit betrayed.

Newt paused for a moment, before asking, "Is this weird?"

Thomas considered this. "Um." He thought for a little longer. "I- I, um, I met you once, yesterday, at a grocery store, where I scanned bags full of candy for you and your friend to eat to get over your ex-boyfriend. This isn't weird."

Newt half wanted to argue because this was kind of weird. But if forgetting it got him into Thomas's good books, he'd toss it out of his mind like Teresa was probably tossing out the bags of candy that they'd finished last night.

He forced a smile, his hand gripping Minho's wrist to get himself to sit up. "I should, um, probably be going anyway."

Minho gave him a look, almost surprise. "Oh, right. Okay. Do you need to borrow some clothes? We got pretty rough last night, I'm pretty sure I ripped something or other off of you."

Newt smirked. "Is that so?"

"If you need anything, take it. I'll check you on the way out for stolen goods not made of cloth." Minho smirked back, leaning in slowly for a kiss. As Newt felt Minho's lips slot into his, he looked at Thomas, almost apologetically.

He felt bad about this. He really was thinking about calling Thomas once Gally was out of his head.

But damn it, he just had to go home with his roommate because well done to Newt's bloody bad luck, doing it again.

Screw even trying to get a cohesive love life together. It was useless for Newt.

Newt, who tried desperately to uphold his smile as Minho pulled back from him, leaving one last peck on his cheek before Newt stood up to get his clothes from the bedroom.

Okay. So, his clothes were in the same tatters as his life was. Not really a shock.

His jeans were fine, so he pulled them over his legs, then rummaged through Minho's underwear drawer to get some socks, then once he had them on his feet, he needed to find a t-shirt that Teresa wouldn't judge him too hard for coming home in. All of Minho's bloody shirts were sports jerseys and/or name brand tank tops that probably cost more than Newt's entire left arm.

He gave up eventually, picked up a bright yellow ( _bright yellow, what was he thinking?_ ) jersey and threw it over his head. His jacket was only missing one button, so he pulled that on but left it open, before grabbing anything else he was pretty sure was his.

He checked his back pocket for his phone, then checked his phone for messages. Three, from Teresa.

**T: you were right to skip the end of this movie lmao**

**T: if you come home tonight the keys are under the mat because you left yours here idiot**

**T: I ate too much of that candy by myself help**

Newt grinned to himself, shooting back a short message to let her know where he was at this morning.

**N: be back soon**

He shoved his phone in his back pocket and searched for his other shoe. When he found it, he pulled it over his foot, did up his laces, then stepped out of the bedroom.

Minho was still on the couch, but Thomas had disappeared. Newt was slightly glad. Minho grinned up at him. "Ooh, picking a shirt you knew you'd have to bring back, huh? Is that an excuse to see me again?"

Newt smirked, looking down at the disgusting yellow hue against his pale skin. "No offence, but I absolutely hate this shirt."

Minho cackled, standing up off the couch to walk over. "Just be sure to bring it back, okay? My dad bought me that shirt just before he passed away in a tragic car accident when I was seven-years-old."

Newt tried not to smile. "No, he didn't."

"He really didn't," Minho chuckled, placing his hand on Newt's cheek. Newt grinned as he kissed him one last time, then Minho walked him the three feet to the door and showed him out.

Teresa was going to tear him apart for that shirt.

The thought made Newt smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while lmfao, I'm sorry. Kinda started this at a bad time and only just now have the time to carry on :/  
> Sorry for any mistakes, I had to copy down all of this chapter from MS Word because that's where I wrote it originally because of internet glitches. And I couldn't copy and paste because it always screws up the paragraphs when I do that, so I had to hand copy it ughhh. I've been through it and tried to check as much as possible, but there might still be mistakes, just so you know.  
> Anyway, hope you like it  
> Leave love ;)


	4. Cheater!

Newt frowned as he unlocked the apartment door, shutting his jacket as much as possible to hide his shirt. The thought of Teresa making fun of him for this dumb, yellow sports jersey had originally sounded like it could be kinda amusing, might take his mind off of the embarrassment of the morning. Newt still couldn't believe he'd hooked up with the one guy who lived with the one guy he'd met the night before, in a completely different scenario. Like, what kind of curse did someone who obviously rooted for Gally have on him? He lived in the _city_ , these things didn't happen. He'd be lucky to see the same homeless person twice on the same day, let alone meet both guys from a shared apartment in the same three hours.

God, someone had it out for him.

Minho's jersey sounded like a fun topic of conversation earlier, but the morning Newt had had so far had been more than enough of the universe taking the piss for one day.

First, he wasn't sure what part of the city he was in, so he had to ask some  _absolute prick_ how to get back to his street, who then gave him a dirty look and told him he didn't like tourists, the bastard. So, Newt caught a bus and got off where he thought sounded familiar, but it turned out he'd just travelled to the entire opposite side and the reason the street sounded familiar was that his mother's hairdresser was across the street. So, he walked around until he reached his parents' house, and his dad gave him a ride home, which meant ten minutes of awkward conversation that went like this:

"So...how's your boyfriend?"

"We broke up. I told you."

"...oh. Right. Sorry. Does that mean you're not bringing him to your auntie's wedding?"

"Bugger off, I know you've wanted me to bring Teresa since we got that bloody invitation. She'll wear blue so as not to clash with the bridesmaids, and no, I won't tell people I'm straight now, no matter how much you pay me."

Awkward silence.

"You're into football now?"

"What? Oh. No. I borrowed this shirt from a guy I met last night."

"Potential boyfriend?"

"No."

"Shame. Y'know, Newt, if you gave me a son-in-law who was actually into all the things I wanted you to be into, I might forgive you for being a queen."

And Newt would roll his eyes and explain why the term queen in that context was offensive, but his dad was still living in the 80s. By the end of the car ride, Newt wanted to tear his hair out, so when the elevator up to his apartment skittered to a halt in between two floors, he almost screamed and punched the walls. He held himself back though and resorted to a quiet string of swear words that made the woman next to him cover her ten year old's ears.

The elevator was only stuck for a couple of seconds, so when he got to his floor, he hurried right to his door. If he was safe and sound in his apartment, the outside world might stop ruining his fuckin' day.

Teresa was asleep when he finally unjammed the door and locked himself in, which was the one thing that since leaving Thomas and Minho's place had actually felt like a blessing. Her body was scrawled across the bed, wearing one of Newt's old pyjama shirts and some undies that Newt was sure he'd only hung on the washing line on the balcony the afternoon before.

The two of them shared the bed since they were poorer than Teresa's make-up stash made them look, so for a moment, Newt considered slipping in next to her. He could pretend he'd been there all night, avoid questions so he wouldn't have to admit that he'd just made an embarrassing mistake.

But he remembered about the jersey and frowned. He skimmed the pink fluffy socks on her feet with his thigh as he made his way to the closet - they shared that too, and yanked at the shirt in a rush when she rolled her body over and began to rub her eyes.

Thank the bloody Lord, he managed to get the shirt off before she began to register the world outside of dreamland and looked up at him. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Newt? Where've you been all night?"

Newt folded the jersey over itself, his face a scowl that said he didn't want to talk about it, but it didn't matter what he did or didn't want to do; Teresa would get details out of him eventually. "I got lucky."

Teresa's eyes widened, then narrowed, and her mouth stretched into a grin that looked a little bit manic because she'd forgotten to wash her lipstick off the night before. "With Minho?"

Newt stopped folding the jersey and set it down on the end of the bed, to look at his roommate with a frown. "How did you know?"

"It says his name on the back of that hideous yellow thing you were holding. Was it good?" Teresa smirked. She began her long journey to sit up against the bedpost, so Newt blushed to himself in secret and picked the jersey back up to see if she was right or had just tiredly misread the fabric.

Immediately, Newt's hatred for the garment fizzled into butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He'd been walking around with Minho's name on his back all morning? That kind of did something to him, like deep down, his heart fluttered a little bit. He internally slapped himself.

Firstly, Minho was an accident. Newt had gotten drunk, he'd probably let the first guy who hit on him take him home, and that just so happened to be Minho. It didn't mean anything, and Newt definitely wouldn't have hooked up with him if he knew Minho was Thomas's roommate. He had intended to keep Thomas in his mind for when he felt a little better about the Gally situation. And speaking of, secondly, Newt had just gotten out of a relationship with a bastard that had taken a huge emotional toll on him. Now was not the time to be getting butterflies and bloody heart palpitations over boys he barely knew.

Teresa was checking her phone, so Newt took the opportunity to leave the room, holding Minho's jersey under his arm so he could put it near the front door to remind himself to return it sometime. He set it so that Minho's name wasn't visible and trudged over to the bathroom to take a shower.

He felt heavy. Stripped of his clothes, standing in a small square cubicle while luke-warm water rained down on him, he felt heavy.

He missed Gally. It was crazy. He knew he shouldn't. But it was true, he and Gally had good times as well as bad. And Gally had been such a major part of his life until three days ago. Newt could fantasize about him getting hit by a bloody bus - a red, London bus for irony - as much as he wanted, but it didn't change that he'd loved Gally once, and even if he hated it, he still did.

Fuck. Newt wrung out his hair with a towel, pulling in a deep, deep breath and holding it in his lungs until his chest felt like a toothpaste tube being rolled from the bottom to get the toothpaste out. He was probably going to be late for work. At this point in his nightmare morning, he'd given up trying.

He dried off his body and put on his work pants, and buttoned up his work shirt up his torso- shit. Tommy's number. Newt had lost it to the water pressure and holding a bar of soap in his palm.

Newt groaned and threw his head back. It was ten thirty and he'd already given up on his day. As per usual.

He finished getting ready as if he was trying to make a point, throwing his towel onto the floor and scraping at his hair as he pulled it back to style it the way he wanted, then he kissed Teresa goodbye and drove off to work.

Newt hated his job. If all the other shit was the cake, having to go to work today was the cherry that sat prettily on top.

He worked as the assistant to the CEO of a company named Wicked, which was a clothing store Newt would never shop at even if he was paid, even though he guessed he kind of was. All he really did was sit around and answer phones and take notes and make appointments and get his boss coffee, which he was only doing for the paycheck and because he was way under-qualified to even try for a job actually working for the company. He only had his GED because his parents moved him and his sister from England just as he was about to start taking his GCSE's, thanks to a family tragedy that came in the form of Newt coming out. Thank god, they left most of their prejudice's in their third house in Pennsylvania, which they moved out of because his dad couldn't get a job and Lizzy refused to go to the school they'd enlisted her into until their dad stopped packing their things up every time Newt shut the door with a boy in his room. Newt still owed her three snickers bars and his CD collection for that.

The only things Newt liked about the job were getting to sit down most of his day, and his boss, Alby. Alby was the best boss Newt could ever ask for. It was like he could always read Newt's mind. Whenever Newt's mental health went bad, Alby always knew to go easy on him, to keep his bossing around to a minimum.

And especially good for Newt this morning, he didn't yell at him for being late.

"Where've you been?" Newt was sure Alby didn't even look up to see if it was him. He was sitting at his desk, looking over the top of his reading glasses that made him look eighty years old, to his computer's screen, no doubt checking shares or stocks or some other managerly thing Newt would know nothing about.

Newt twirled his tie around his finger, nervously glancing at the office behind him to make sure the clear glass doors were closed tight enough so no one would hear him. "I can't pick up men for shit. The rest is details."

Alby looked up at him finally, his eyes flitting over to him while his head stayed still. He let his face fall and sighed, leaning back in his swirly office chair. "You're lucky I can make my own coffee. Oh, by the way, Gally called your phone. He left a message but I didn't listen to it. Promise."

Newt looked at his desk. It sat just outside Alby's office doors but to the left, all personalised with his stationery and gadgets and photos of his sister and he and Teresa, who most of the employees assumed was his girlfriend. He didn't bother correcting them, he tried to avoid conversation with them anyhow. He could see the red flash on his phone that meant there was a message waiting for him, and his throat tightened. Gally hadn't made any attempt to speak to him a single time since he drove Newt home and broke up with him outside his apartment.

What did he want? Surely he didn't want to get back together? Why would he want to, after three days of a break-up? Newt hoped desperately that that wasn't it. Because if Gally wanted to get back together, Newt might not be able to say no. And being with Gally again might seem sweet, but it would kill him the same way it had this past year and a half.

"Okay," Newt exhaled but it couldn't unknot his stomach. He gave Alby a polite smile to say thank you, then quietly slipped out of the office. His seat was waiting patiently for him, so he walked to his desk and sat down, his knee bouncing anxiously as he hesitated with his hand around the phone receiver.

Shit. He picked up the phone and held it to his ear, pressing the appropriate buttons to get to his messages and play Gally's.

He'd missed Gally's voice. It was the kind of thing that made him annoyed at himself - why give that bastard any more of his time and emotions? But there was no helping it, realistically.

"Hey, Newt. I, uhh, I've been meaning to...I've been meaning to call you. I miss talking to you- no, I probably shouldn't say that, should I? Umm, I know you're at work right now, so your cell is probably off. Just- That's why I'm calling here. But I guess you don't want to talk to me, which is, uhhh, it's fine. Or maybe you're in the bathroom or something. I don't know. You could be taking a day off. I know you do that when you're d- uhh, depressed. Are you? I mean, it's only been a couple of days. Three, maybe four? I don't know. I hope you're okay. That's, um...That's why I called, to see if you're alright. I still care about you. I don't know how you're taking this, and I'm worried about you. Just, um, could you come over after work? You left some of your stuff here. I boxed it up for you. And I'll be here all day, so anytime. If...I mean, I guess you might not want to come over, so if you don't want to, maybe you could call? Or text me? Just so I know you're okay. Yeah. I only have a couple seconds left before this piece of shit phone will cut me off so, um, bye. Love yo- Uhh, look- looking forward to seeing you."

Newt sniffed, his vision swimming in tears. He let one drip down along the curve of the side of his nose until the taste of salt on his lip reminded him where he was. No one noticed him, thankfully, so he wiped his face and breathed deeply while one of his hands ran through his hair to soothe himself. He dropped the phone onto its home and forced himself to focus on work. All he needed to do right now was work.

So, he answered the phone, and took notes, and made coffee and frustrating small talk with the lady who always tried to hit on him despite being twenty years older than him. It was his first time since he'd got this blasted job that he actually wasn't looking forward to the end of the day.

And yet, because whatever God out there had a vendetta against him, the hours passed quicker than they ever had. A few more bad things to happen to him today and Newt would start swearing at the bloody sky.

As he left the offices, he considered stopping to get a coffee or go shopping or something so he didn't have to go straight to Gally's place, but after a few moments of walking towards the nearest Starbucks, he realised he'd rather get it over and done with than have to think about it too much and end up putting it off. Besides, he was a fully grown man. He could handle a couple of minutes at his ex's. So he turned around and trudged his way to Gally's place.

He hated knocking on Gally's door. It felt like giving up, like begging for him back. He knew that wasn't what this was about, but it was difficult to see it any other way since every other time things had seemed like they were ending between him and Gally, Newt had come crawling back to him. Knocking on this very door to tell him he didn't want to give up on the two of them and that he still loved him.

Maybe that was why Gally called. Newt hadn't come back yet, and maybe Gally was getting worried he never would. That was Teresa's fault. She'd practically kept Newt on house arrest for the past couple of days, so he couldn't catapult back here.

Sounds of the door handle twisted brought Newt out of his conspiracies about his ex and made him force a smile. The door was pulled open, and he simpered at the other side of the doorframe, at Gally.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Gally looked the way Lizzy's book of fairy tales described Snow White. Hair blacker than ever, sitting atop his head in that effortless way that made his mess look coherent, but Newt knew he'd done nothing to it to make it look that good. His skin was pale as snow, apart from the odd scar and bruise around his body, because he was the kind of guy who got into fights over dumb shit, something Newt used to think made him some sexy macho man, though after a while he just started to feel like a petty idiot overreacting constantly. His lips weren't red, but they were shiny, inviting.

If this were any other day, Newt would have kissed him. They'd have make-up sex and suddenly everything would be patched up like Gally hadn't cheated on Newt with the guy he used to have a crush on who worked in the local off-license or the bloke he swore was only there to clean his windows or the gay English teacher that lived a few apartments down the hallway. The list went on.

But seeing Gally's face didn't make Newt think about how much he'd missed him, or that he couldn't live without him, or all the great memories he couldn't let go of yet like it usually did. This time, Newt's mind went to Thomas.

Which was the worst way to introduce yourself to a man: sleep with his roommate, or run over his best friend?

Newt hit Ben so hard with his car that Ben was in a coma for a week. Obviously, Newt freaked the bloody fuck out and called 911 and had his license taken away and told the policeman exactly what had happened. When Ben woke up, he dropped the charges because video footage from a surveillance camera proved it was Ben's fault - he'd ran in front of the car in a drunken stupor and Newt had done as much as he could to keep him as safe as possible. Plus, Ben thought it was sweet that Newt hadn't left his side the entire time he'd been in the hospital. He was too anxious.

Gally came into the hospital on the night it happened, and sat next to Ben's bed and drew a stick figure on his hand with the erasable marker the doctor used to write his name on the whiteboard above his head. He and Newt got to talking, and the rest was history. If 'history' meant Newt still had recurring nightmares about Ben running into the bloody road in front of his car, then yeah, history.

If Ben and Minho were friends back then, Newt wondered if Minho came in to visit Ben sometime during that week. If he did, Newt hadn't noticed him. Or at least paid enough attention to remember him. Maybe he was asleep because he slept a lot during that week. His therapist had since told him that she thought it might have been a way to deal with the stress, but Newt was pretty sure he was just tired because he'd been visiting family in London for the past few weeks leading up to the accident.

But the point was this: if Gally had still managed to fall in love with Newt after Newt had almost killed his best friend, what was a little fooling around with Thomas's roommate? Maybe that wasn't how relationships worked. But it did make Newt feel a little bit better about the whole situation.

He didn't even particularly know why he was so obsessed with having embarrassed himself in front of Thomas. He barely knew the guy. And having his number didn't mean Newt owed him anything.

But Thomas just seemed like a nice guy. If Newt getting off with Minho upset him, then Newt felt bad about it.

"I'm here to pick up my stuff," Newt told Gally, his fake-smile twitching. He should return Minho's jersey after this. A top-notch excuse to swing by their apartment. That might cheer him up after the stress of seeing his ex.

Gally seemed unnerved. He looked at Newt strange, only one of his eyebrows furrowing because apparently, he didn't have the energy to pull out the stitches above his other eyebrow. Newt kind of understood what he meant. This was weird for Newt too, not immediately apologising and running into Gally's arms like the end of some shitty black and white romance movie that he and Teresa had definitely watched for one crappy break-up movie night.

"Right," Gally said, forcing his own smile, but it came out sloppy. Though Newt couldn't really talk when it came to sloppy smiles. Gally pulled the door towards him and moved out of the way for Newt to come in, so the blond did. The apartment wasn't any different without Newt's things, but Newt didn't know what he was expecting. He'd only left a toothbrush and some clothes here.

There was a cardboard box on the kitchen counter, which Gally walked over to pick up. He looked back at Newt as he closed the folds above the box. "So, um, what have you been up to? Was there a crappy break-up movie night in my honour or are you here to win me back?"

He was joking, but it made Newt's fake smile drop. What a prick. It was like he knew how much he'd tortured Newt, but he _definitely_ was not smart enough to be that manipulative. "Don't be a dick, Gal. I'm just here to pick up my stuff."

Gally frowned, he looked up, halfway through picking up the box. He stopped and set the box back down. "Sorry. But was there? Did you get sick from too much sugar? I mean, a year and a half deserves at least a stomachache, doesn't it?"

Newt pulled his tie at the knot to loosen it, sighing. "No. We had a movie night, but I left halfway through. I went out with a guy."

That made him sound less cut-up about the break-up than he'd meant it to, and he wasn't sure if that was good or not. Gally stopped dead, his face fallen so far Newt thought it might drop right into the box. "Oh."

Newt looked at his feet and kicked the carpet awkwardly. "It was just a one-night-stand."

He didn't know why he felt like he had to justify himself to Gally. Three days was soon to start thinking about other people, but Gally cheated on him, while they were dating. So three days sounded like three years.

"I..." Gally began, his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, stalling. "Do I know this guy?"

"Maybe," Newt shrugged. He didn't know what either of them would gain if he lied about it. "Ben's friend Minho. He took me out drinking."

Gally's frown became a scowl - that face like he wanted to punch something. Newt stepped backwards, even though he knew Gally would never hurt him. "You slept with Minho?"

Newt crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrows furrowing deeply. "He came to fix my TV then we went out for a few pints. I was drunk. What, is he important?"

Gally threw the box onto the carpet and kicked it hard enough for Newt to hear rattling inside it. The blond gasped, surprised he'd gotten angry so quickly. "That smug fucker. He just never knows when to leave well enough alone, does he?"

Newt panicked for his belongings and gave Gally a stern look. "Funnily enough, Gally, it was my bloody choice to have sex with him last night. It's not his fault I get handsy when I'm drunk, is it?"

For all Newt knew, maybe it was his fault about what happened last night. But there was a slimmer chance of Gally going on a violent rampage if he thought Newt had instigated it and Minho had just played along.

Gally kicked the box again, this time toppling it over so that a pair of underwear and a book Newt never finished rolled out. Newt watched silently as Gally turned and paced towards his bedroom with his palm against his forehead, taking deep breaths. He did that sometimes when everything in his brain began to boil over. It was like he was so angry his head was about to explode and he had to hold his skull together so that it wouldn't.

He turned to Newt accusingly, his nostrils flared. His hand dropped from his head and pointed his finger at his ex like he was about to poke him from all the way at his bedroom door. "We've been broken up less than a week and you've already slept with Minho fucking Park. How the fuck did I think you'd be getting all depressed over me? I shouldn't have expected anything less from  _you_."

He said the last word like he was trying to stab it into Newt's stomach and twist until Newt was coughing up blood, but Newt just scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. "At least, I bloody waited for us to be over before I started meeting other guys. You never did, did you, Gally?"

Gally's face was overdone with rage. "Well, what was I supposed to do? You were too suicidal and mopey to fuck me, a man has needs."

"'Suicidal and mopey'? Is that what we're calling it now? I thought it was 'tired and lazy'. Or no, 'boring and sleepy'. Or was it 'emo and clingy'?"

"Fuck you. Whore."

"Cheater."

"High-school dropout."

" _Cheater_."

Gally's face fell, and after a moment of solemn thought, his head dropped too. He looked at the floor, frowning at Newt's underwear and the book that had spilt out of the box. He was hurt. Newt watched him quietly, a sob bubbling in his chest that he managed to suppress when Gally spoke, his voice raspy. "I'm sorry." He paused, then he looked up and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry for kicking your stuff too."

Newt couldn't help it. His lip crawled up a little bit, and half his face almost smiled. Gally noticed, and allowed a sad laugh, half-hearted, escape his throat.

There was silence.

"I'm getting therapy," Gally announced, bending his knees to pick up the box and the things that had fallen out of it. Newt stayed in the comfort of the preceding silence. "For my anger issues, and paranoia. Ben said I should. I'm hoping they can help me with sex addiction, too. Doc said it sounds like I have symptoms. I guess you know that better than anyone."

It was a joke. Newt nodded wordlessly. He'd never considered therapy for Gally. Gally punched out his problems, talking to him was always 'a waste of time' when Newt tried. It had never even crossed Newt's mind that maybe the baggage that came along with dating Gally was something a therapist could help with. It felt like it was just in his DNA, just a personality trait weaved into him. Then again, Newt's depression came from his mother, so maybe things laced in people's DNA wasn't as definite as science made it sound.

Gally held out the box to him. "Maybe that's why I cheated on you, y'know. I'm addicted."

Newt took the box out of his hands and held it close to him. It grounded him, kept him tied to right here, right now. "I had a cousin who was addicted to heroin. You're not special. Or forgiven."

Gally nodded, sighing.

There was another silence.

"I should get going."

"Yeah. Bye. Nice to see you."

"Nice to see you too."

Newt didn't open his mouth again until he got to his car, where he sat in the driver's seat and sobbed until his eyes were red and stinging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Sup  
> I made this chapter long to make up for that really freakin short one a couple chapters back :P  
> A lotta Newtmas coming your way in the next update - that should be up sometime soon. Hope you liked this chapter anyway.  
> Leave love ;)


End file.
